


Surrender

by Mazarin221b



Series: Florentine [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fisting, Angst, Cockwarming, Dom Yuuri Katsuki, M/M, Past Yuuri/Chris, Punishment, Relationship Discussions, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Tiny bit of implied bloodplay, Trust Issues, Victor in a skirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Victor gets what he asks for when he wants Yuuri to take him in hand for a day. But sometimes what we want and what we get are two different things, and nothing will strip a relationship's rough edges bare like trust and control.“A submissive will give their entire life, all decisions, all of their personal free will over to a Dom in a relationship. A Dom is then responsible for that sub, for their happiness and wellbeing in all things.”Victor had openly gawped when he read that. The very idea of handing his entire life over to, say, Yuuri to make all of his decisions for him, to be responsible for him? There’s no way. But … what if he let Yuuri have him for a weekend? What about a whole day? Something more than the few hours at a time they have together in the playroom. Something lasting. Something that would get into his soul, scratch the itch for Yuuri that never is really satisfied.





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> My absolute love and utter thanks to pursuit_of_nerdiness and AND for making sure this was set on the right path when I started to wander far afield. 
> 
> There will be at least one more part after this.

 

What wakes Victor up isn’t the cock sliding between his ass cheeks or his wrists pinned above his head to the mattress, but Yuuri’s harsh breaths in his ear.

“It’s seven eighteen, my beauty,” he murmurs, and his hips snap forward, the head of his cock slipping hot and hard over Victor’s hole. “We said after seven you were mine.”

Victor shudders awake in a blaze of heat. “We did,” he gasps. “Oh. Sir. Should I…”

“Quiet,” Yuuri snaps, “and let me take care of this.” 

Victor stills immediately, whimpering under the onslaught, Yuuri’s cock slipping wetly over his skin, the gold clip of his collar clinking with every thrust. He’s dripping with sweat, the sun streaming through the windows and lighting up Yuuri’s bedroom, raising the temperature to somewhere above stifling. He tries to stay still, focusing on the burn of his wrists, on Yuuri’s weight holding him down, on his own cock rubbing uselessly against the mattress and giving him no relief whatsoever.

He loves it.

Yuuri continues to fuck between his cheeks, head tipped down and pressed between Victor’s shoulderblades. He’s not sure how long Yuuri had been at him before he woke up but he can feel Yuuri’s control begin to waver in the desperation of his thrusts, so Victor tips his hips up to meet him, let him angle his cock to push between Victor’s thighs instead, hoping the friction of Yuuri’s cock against his balls will help him get off.  Yuuri doesn’t go along with it, though, just pulls himself back until he can come, hot and wet, over the curve of Victor’s ass. 

“Gorgeous,” Yuuri says, and slaps Victor’s flank as he slides to the side. “Go take a shower and put on what I’ve left for you, my beauty,” he says, and winks.

Victor lifts himself onto his elbows and just stares, dumbfounded, his cock aching with need.

“Did I stutter?” Yuuri asks, eyebrow raised.

“No, sir,” Victor says, and scrambles to process even as he climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom.

It’s only hour one.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Victor admits this was entirely his idea.

He was trying to finish up some edits on his book and the phrase “Taken in hand” had caught his attention as he browsed a few fetish sites. “A submissive will give their entire life, all decisions, all of their personal free will over to a Dom in a relationship. A Dom is then responsible for that sub, for their happiness and wellbeing in all things.”

Victor had openly gawped when he read that. The very idea of handing his entire life over to, say, Yuuri to make all of his decisions for him, to be responsible for him? There’s no way. But … what if he let Yuuri have him for a weekend? What about a whole day? Something more than the few hours at a time they have together in the playroom. Something lasting. Something that would get into his soul, scratch the itch for Yuuri that never is really satisfied. 

_ “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Yuuri said when Victor broached the topic in the bath one night. “It’s not exactly like having a 24 hour scene, Victor. It’s a whole lifestyle.” _

_ “But wouldn’t you want to have me whenever you wanted?” Victor protested. “I’d be yours entirely, Yuuri. Yours to do with as you like, whenever you like.” Victor had straddled him then, the exhaustion from their scene forgotten as Yuuri’s body responded to his, and Yuuri was simply loved into agreement. _

_ “You know I can’t deny you,” Yuuri said later, panting into Victor’s chest. Victor just preened. “If you want to do this, I will, but I don’t know that you’re going to really like it.” _

_ “It’s you, my Yuuri. How could I not?” _

Which is how Victor is now standing damp and showered in the upstairs bath, staring at a short pleated skirt and a white button up top and a note that says. “Breakfast please, I’d like soft boiled eggs, rice, sausages, and tea.”

_ RIP Victor Nikiforov _ , he thinks, as he slides the skirt up over his hips and looks. It barely covers the bottom curve of his ass.  _ You did this to yourself. _

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Victor balances the tray on one hand as he opens the door to Yuuri’s bedroom. Sure, Yuuri didn’t exactly  _ specify _ he wanted breakfast in bed, but Victor isn’t above improvising, and he loves snuggling in next to Yuuri to eat and talk and read in the morning. Besides, he’s absolutely  _ starving _ .

Yuuri is still naked in bed, sheet barely pulled up over his waist. He’s scrolling through his phone, hair a glorious mess, the bright gold of his nipple rings glinting in the early morning sunlight.

Victor almost tosses the tray aside. Nothing could be more delicious than Yuuri at this moment, but he remembers his instructions and demurely stands next to the bed with the tray. Yuuri’s eyes light up.

“Oh, in bed?  You’re so wonderful, Victor, thank you.” Yuuri takes the tray and settles it over his lap. “Now, kneel here where I can reach you, my darling.” Yuuri pats the bed. Victor pauses. He can smell the sausage, almost taste the golden egg yolk on a forkful of rice, and he almost, almost protests but instead settles himself right next to Yuuri’s hip with his ass on his heels, hands on his thighs, skirt spread perfectly smoothly. He’s no fool. This isn’t just for him, and the twitch of Yuuri’s smile gives him away.

“You do look so pretty, Victor. But we should eat before it gets cold.” Yuuri lifts the cover off of the rice bowl and stops. Victor never can get the perfectly round mounds of rice that Yuuri can, but he tries. It’s a little lopsided but should taste good. Yuuri just smiles. “I love this. Every time I see it in the bowl it’s just so very you.” Yuuri picks up a fork and cracks the top off of an egg before dipping a forkful of rice in the yolk. “First bite for the cook,” he says, and holds it out in front of Victor’s mouth. Victor is all too eager to take it, too, a warm silky explosion of yolk and the starch of rice over his tongue, and he sighs in contentment, eyes sliding closed. Thank god, Yuuri seems inclined to feed him if he’s good, and he’s going to be extra good today.

When he opens his eyes, Yuuri is studying him, his expression amused and fond and longing. 

“What?” he asks.

Yuuri shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m looking forward to the rest of today, is all. Have another bite.” This time sausage, spicy and salty. Yuuri keeps giving Victor bites, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth or lifting Victor’s hand for a kiss until most of the meal is gone, and Victor realizes Yuuri’s not eaten anything himself.

“But I made this for you,” Victor protests, and Yuuri shushes him. 

“I’ve left enough for me. Now. Are you feeling okay?”

Victor assesses. “Of course.”

“Then put your head in my lap, my Beauty, and take care of me while I eat.”

Victor blinks. Yuuri pulls the sheet down and he’s half hard, and Victor just ate…really quite a bit of breakfast.

“Now, Victor,” Yuuri warns. Victor stretches out across the bed and Yuuri pushes the tray down slightly to make room for him, but otherwise, he has to really maneuver himself into position. He takes the head of Yuuri’s cock delicately between his lips. 

Warm, soft skin, the smell of soap, of Yuuri’s body. Comforting and delicious. Victor swallows, sucking a bit deeper, his nose just barely brushing across Yuuri’s pubic hair. Not very deep, and there’s not much room to move, but he’ll give it his best. Before he can start in earnest, however, Yuuri places a hand on his head. 

“That’s such a good boy,” Yuuri coos, and slides his fingers in Victor’s hair. “Now, you stay just like that while I finish eating.”

That he most definitely can do, and he tongues around Yuuri’s cock as it slowly fills, getting harder in his mouth. Yuuri simply caresses Victor’s head and eats, acting so nonchalant about the entire thing that if his cock wasn’t getting harder by the second Victor would think he was completely uninterested. Victor pushes a little and caresses the slit, sucking slightly, and is rewarded by a twitch in Yuuri’s thighs. 

“Naughty,” Yuuri says, and looks down to catch his eye. Victor winks. “But you’re being so good. Such a sweetheart. When I’m finished you’ll get your reward. Can you hold on for me for a little while longer?” 

“Mmm,” Victor agrees, lips stretched. His own cock, still neglected, is definitely interested in wherever this is going, and he can feel it lifting against the pleats of his skirt as he’s half-turned on his side. He loves being here, warm in the cradle of Yuuri’s hips, his master a guiding hand as he waits for his touch. God, Yuuri is so good at this, so thoughtful and creative, and Victor gets a  _ whole entire day of it. _

Yuuri said Victor wouldn’t like it much but he’s not sure why. He fucking  _ loves _ it so far. 

Yuuri sighs and pushes the tray down just a little more, but seems otherwise disinclined to move, just pushes his fingers through Victor’s hair again as Victor holds Yuuri’s cock in his mouth and swallows back the drool that threatens to drip from the corner of his mouth. He holds perfectly still and waits. Yuuri doesn’t seem to want to fuck his mouth, and he doesn’t want Victor to move, either.  Victor puzzles over what’s next and he shifts uneasily, his skirt riding up.

“Settle,” Yuuri murmurs, his voice breathy and low. “You’re just keeping me hungry for you, my love. Now, move the tray and come back for your reward.”

Victor releases Yuuri’s cock, red and hard and shiny with spit. It looks almost painful, but Victor knows better, knows his master has almost unlimited control over himself, so he does as he’s told. He climbs back on the bed as Yuuri slides down to lie flat on his back.

“Right up here, my beauty,” he says, and tugs Victor’s skirt until Victor finally catches on and swings one knee over Yuuri’s head until he’s kneeling across Yuuri’s face, hands flat on the wall in front of him.  Victor looks down, anticipation buzzing in his gut and unable to keep a grin off of his face. The hem of his skirt brushes against Yuuri’s nose, his eyes playfully wicked as he slides a hand up the back of Victor’s thigh. 

“Spread your legs more,” he says. “And settle in.”

Oh god. Victor shifts with Yuuri guiding him down until he feels the wet swipe of a tongue against his balls, his perineum, Yuuri’s tongue tracing its way back, back, until he zeros in on Victor’s hole. Victor yelps with the sensation. Yuuri clamps his hands around Victor’s thighs under the skirt and holds him there, suspended over his face and humming his pleasure into Victor’s ass. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, sir,  _ fuck _ ” Victor babbles, hands on the wall and desperately trying to keep himself still and not crush Yuuri’s skull between his thighs.  Yuuri just keeps licking, nose bumping against his balls and massaging his skin with maddening precision, the fingers of one hand sneaking around to circle the base of Victor’s cock and stroke him.  Victor is absolutely awash in sensation, his body trembling as Yuuri licks up his balls and back down to his hole, his body so tense with arousal it takes everything he has to relax and let Yuuri inside. He can feel Yuuri’s tongue delicately push at his hole and he gasps when Yuuri chuckles against his skin.

“Let me in, Victor. You know I can keep you here all day.” 

Victor sucks in a breath. “I’m trying sir, I promise I’m trying.” 

Yuuri licks him again, long and wet. “You’re going to want to be nice and soft later, trust me. Relax.”

Victor moans at that. Later? Dear god, what’s later? Yuuri squeezes his cock and drags his hand down and over the head and Victor bucks, he can’t help it. Yuuri pinches his thigh in punishment for moving so much, and Victor is so wound up now he’s almost forgotten himself. He’s floating, high on Yuuri’s beautiful attentions, but he takes a deep breath and relaxes and drops his chin to his chest.

“Yes, my love. That’s it.” Yuuri pulls him down by the thighs until his face is completely buried in Victor’s ass, his tongue pushing rhythmically against Victor’s hole until he can work the tip inside, teasing the rim as he continues to stroke Victor’s cock until Victor can feel the urge to come twisting sharp in his groin.

“Can I come? Please, sir, please, I need, I need…”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, voice muffled, and he swipes the flat of his tongue over Victor’s thigh. “Yes, Victor. Come, my beauty. Let me feel it on my lips.”

Victor whimpers at that and it takes only moments before Yuuri’s clever hands on his cock ramp up his pleasure until he breaks, shaking apart and gasping, his mind a shattered mess and completely at the mercy of Yuuri’s clever, clever mouth.

Victor blearily watches Yuuri reach over to the bedside table and wipe his hand off on a tissue. He’s buzzing and shivery, thighs trembling, and he slips over to flop onto his back and look at Yuuri, his lips wet with spit and a smug smile on his face.

“Holy fuck,” Victor says, and laughs.

“Mmmm. You were delicious,” Yuuri says, and rolls over to kiss Victor’s shoulder. “I’m going to go shower. You’re free to do as you like for a while. I need to get a few things done this morning, okay?” 

Victor frowns. “What about you?” 

“I’m fine.” Yuuri hugs Victor’s waist and edges his fingers under Victor’s shirt to drag his fingertips across Victor’s skin. “You’re so beautiful. And all mine today.”

Victor looks down at Yuuri’s head, his body snuggled up against Victor’s side. Yes, he’s happy to be Yuuri’s, but he wants Yuuri to enjoy himself, too.  He rarely ever does anything to Victor that he himself doesn’t get off on, but Victor had Yuuri’s cock in his mouth for a long time, and he still hasn’t come, and—

“Victor. Stop thinking so hard. I see that wrinkle in your forehead.”  Victor gasps dramatically and makes a show of smoothing out his skin, making Yuuri chuckle. But when Yuuri gives him one last hug and slips from the bed, cock still hard and leaking, Victor can’t help but let that frown slip back into place. 

…………………………………………………………………………………

“You want me to do laundry,” Victor says flatly.

Yuuri is standing in front of him with a basket of sheets and towels, an infuriating smirk on his face. “I’m busy today, I’ve got to finish up this choreo for Elena before Monday. You wanted to be taken in hand, so that’s what I’m doing. You asked, Victor, and I’ve decided how we’re going to share work today.”

Victor grits his teeth. He hates dealing with laundry, and Yuuri knows it. He sends his own out most of the time, getting it back clean and pressed and neatly folded. Yuuri, however, deals with his own, the machine in the basement across from the playroom.  

“Victor,” Yuuri warns, and Victor sighs and holds his hands out for the basket.

Yuuri hands it over with a bright smile. “Thank you, my beauty. We also need to work on the playroom, if you want to get started. Phichit has guests tomorrow, and we need to check the hoists.”

“Chris isn’t a guest,” Victor mumbles as he stalks downstairs with the basket. The skirt is starting to annoy him, short as it is, and today was supposed to be about having fun with Yuuri all day, not being relegated to housekeeper. Victor huffs as he tosses the sheets in and sets the machine, and wanders over to the playroom to lean in the doorway.

It’s not like he doesn’t help Yuuri with keeping the playroom clean and neat, the bathroom sparkling and everything in proper working order. He does that without thinking, glad to help keep their space beautiful. But something about being told to do it grates on his nerves, all too reminiscent of his life spent under the thumb of various coaches, nutritionists, and teachers, and it’s annoying him.

He settles on the sofa in the corner, pulls his phone out from the waistband of his skirt and starts scrolling through Instagram. Screw it. He’ll get to the hoists in a minute. He’s got a while before the sheets need to go in the dryer anyway. 

He fiddles around with his phone, drops in on Twitter, reads a few articles, and generally fucks around and doesn’t pay any attention to the time until he hears the creak on the top stair that heralds Yuuri’s imminent arrival. Victor throws down his phone and darts to the hoist. He might be able to distract Yuuri from the fact he’s done exactly nothing in the play room if he…yes. Victor stretches up as high as he can, on his tiptoes, and makes a show of unhooking one of the sets of clips holding a leather harness to the hardpoint. Based on the breeze, he’s sure his ass is peeking out from under the skirt, and he arches his back a little more just to make sure. 

The door opens and Victor finishes unhooking the harness before turning around with a grin. “Hello, sir!” he chirps.

Yuuri stands in the doorway, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed. “You’re just now getting to this?” he asks, voice low.

Victor swallows. “Ah. Well. I took a break, and I lost track of time, and—“

“That’s enough.” Yuuri stalks across the floor toward him and Victor can feel his heart kickstart in his chest, fear running cold through his veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor tries, and he is, he was just bored, and Yuuri wasn’t playing with him, and this wasn’t turning out at all like he thought it was supposed to. 

“Count down from ten, over my knee, Victor,” Yuuri says quietly, and instead of the steely anger Victor expected, Yuuri looks defeated and sad.

Victor’s stomach swoops. He’s really fucked up this time; not just disobedience, no, but something else.

“I said over my knee. Now.”

Victor slowly crosses to where Yuuri sits on the lounge. He tries to search Yuuri’s face as he kneels, but Yuuri won’t look at him, simply staring at the floor, mouth turned down in disappointment. 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Victor tries again as he settles himself on his stomach across Yuuri’s lap, his muscles tense in anticipation. He knows he could stop this at any time, but he also knows he deserves it. “I just lost track of time.”

“I know. But so help me, Victor, you’re going to learn to obey me.”  Victor squeezes his eyes shut and prays he’s able to take it.

“Color,” Yuuri says, and the word is not unkind. 

Victor’s heart is hammering in his chest. This is it, his way out. He can call red and Yuuri will stop. He can call his safeword and the whole thing will end immediately, without blame. 

“G-Green,” he stammers.

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath, blows it out, and flips Victor’s skirt up over his back.

Victor holds his own breath.

The impact of his hand is hard, and Victor can hear his own whimper echoing in his ears. “Ten,” he whispers.

Yuuri runs a hand over the skin of his ass, checking it for warmth. He raises his arm again, this time the blow landing on the other cheek, and the sting of the hit raises the hair on Victor’s neck. It’s hard and harsh and cold, and none of the playfulness of Yuuri’s style is present in the abrupt snaps of his hand against Victor’s skin.

“Nine.” A little stronger this time, and he can feel the heat build.

Tears begin to spring to his eyes at eight, the blows overlapping now and landing on warmed skin.  By six he’s starting to feel a bit numb.

“Five,” he cries, and he can’t help but add, “Please, sir, I’m sorry. Sorry. I’ll be good, I promise!” 

“I said ten,” Yuuri snaps. “You need to learn to listen to me.” Yuuri reaches back for another blow.

“I will, I will, ah, fuck, four,” Victor cries. He’s not sure he’s going to make it now; he needs this to end, the burning fire of his ass and the iciness of Yuuri’s body language a thorn in his heart. “Please, sir!”

Yuuri ignores him. “You know what you can say. Use your words properly or be quiet.”

_ Salchow. _ It’s right there on the tip of his tongue. One tiny word and this will all end.

And Victor will be ashamed of himself forever. He earned this. He ignored his master’s orders. He took charge of his own self on a day he was supposed to belong to Yuuri, and he knows better. He  _ does _ know better. He and Yuuri have been at this for a year now, this isn’t anything new.

But Yuuri’s sorrow and disappointment are new, and more than he can bear. 

He bites his tongue and clenches his fists, and the next three blows are as hard as the first, punch the breath from his lungs, sear across his skin like fire, and when Yuuri pulls him up into a hug, Victor is shaking, tears running down his face, and his nose is snotty.

“Shhhh, my beauty. You’re okay now. You did so well.  I’m going to put some ointment on and you’re going to go to my room and lie down for an hour.” Yuuri’s voice breaks at the end, and when Victor looks up, he’s astonished to see Yuuri’s eyes red-rimmed and sparkling. 

“Sir?” Victor clings onto Yuuri’s shirt. “Please. I’m sorry.”

Yuuri sighs and kisses Victor’s forehead. “I know you are, darling. I know. Let’s get you cleaned up and you can go rest, okay?”

Victor nods and shifts to get up, and he’s astonished to feel Yuuri hard in his jeans. He stills and catches Yuuri’s eye.

“Sir?” he asks again, gently. 

Yuuri, astonishingly, flushes. “Ignore it,” he says, and helps Victor rise. “You need a rest, and some time to think.”

Victor hisses as he moves. Simply standing is enough of a distraction, the skin on his ass hot and tight, so Victor lets it go for now. He’s got a few more problems to deal with than his master’s unusual erections.

Like the fact that Yuuri sent him off to his room alone, and Victor lies in bed on his stomach, staring at Yuuri’s desk. It’s cleaner than usual, only one empty cup on its surface, but Victor can still see the multiple screens with Elena’s competition recordings, a window with her new music (Victor squints – Oh no, she’s doing Frozen, please child you are thirteen now, why didn’t she ask his opinion about this?), and Yuuri’s own elements vs point value spreadsheet. 

Skating. The thing that brought them within each other’s orbit so many years ago and the one thing that almost drove them apart, Yuuri terrified of Victor thinking him lacking, Victor furious and hurt Yuuri would hide something so wondrous and lovely about himself. They’re past all of that now, a year into their relationship, Victor happy and satisfied and so deeply in love he wakes up and wonders how he ever got so lucky, to find someone like Yuuri. Someone who loves him so deeply, who fits into his life and his soul like the echoing beat of Victor’s heart. 

Victor squirms around on the bed, aching and ruffled. Punishment usually helps settle him if he’s really messed up, but today he feels like he’s not really gotten to the root of the problem. Yuuri told him that he wouldn’t like being taken in hand for a whole entire day, but Victor had wanted to know, and, as usual, Yuuri had provided. Like he always does. 

Victor had asked, and Yuuri had given. 

Victor pushes his face into the pillow, blocking out all light, muffling the sound of the whirring computer fans. Yuuri had given exactly what Victor had asked for and then some, despite knowing Victor would probably dislike it and trying to warn him against it, and yet when Victor had insisted, he planned an entire day just for him, knowing Victor would likely fight him.

Expecting it.  

The sheets slide from the bed as Victor twists and turns, trying to get comfortable, before he flips the back of the skirt up so it stops brushing his tender skin.  He huffs and settles his chin on his hands. Victor did try, though. He did. He did the laundry, and he made breakfast, and he was a sweet boy and held Yuuri’s cock for him and got him ready and keyed up for later, whatever that was going to be, and …

Victor knocks his forehead into his hands. But it’s not later. There may not  _ be _ a later. Because Victor didn’t let Yuuri get him  _ to _ later. He decided to fuck off and do whatever he wanted instead of trusting his master to take him where he should go, like he should, and he’s almost positive that’s where the problem lies.

Victor sighs. Sitting in here won’t do a single thing to help this situation get back on track.  Victor needs to call truce, even if he’s not quite sure how. Adding fuel to the fire of his disobedience is reckless at best, so he waits until his hour is up and creeps carefully down the stairs on his toes and looks around. Yuuri isn’t anywhere on the first floor. He turns the ornate brass knob to the basement and finds all of the lights on, so he skips the top step and makes his way down as silently as he can.

When he reaches the bottom step he can just see Yuuri through the open door, sitting on the edge of the lounge, chin in hand and elbow on his knee. His lips are twisted in a frown, and Victor’s heart  _ aches. _

“Is there something between yellow and red?” Victor jokes weakly. “Orange?”

Yuuri’s head flies up and he stares for a moment before he clears his throat, clearly ready to admonish Victor until he realizes it’s been an hour. But then Victor sees his words register. Yuuri’s expression softens, and he nods. 

“I have no idea, but I get what you’re saying. Come here?” 

Victor breathes a sigh of relief and pads across the warm wood to slip to the floor and lean against Yuuri’s knees. He flinches a bit when his ass comes into contact with the floor, so he shifts to lean on one hip as much as possible and curls a hand around Yuuri’s calf, his cheek against Yuuri’s thigh. “I’m so, so sorry, Yuuri,” he says. “You did so much to give me today, and I couldn’t even make it to lunchtime.”

“I know.” Yuuri sighs. “I just.  You still hesitate. You still pause. I’ve done everything I can think of to get you to trust me, to just let go without hesitation. I wish I knew what I keep doing wrong.”

Victor feels his throat tighten. He was right; it’s about trust. “Oh god, Yuuri, no, no, it’s not like that, I swear it isn’t.”

“You paused when I asked you to hold my cock in your mouth earlier. Can I ask why?”

Victor blinks. “Um. I had just eaten and I was afraid you’d try to fuck my throat and I’d gag and throw up?”

Yuuri lifts Victor’s chin and looks him right in the eyes. “Have I ever done anything like that?”

Victor thinks back. “…No.”

“And did I this time? Did you think I wouldn’t take that into account? I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Victor swallows and looks down. Oh god, he has fucked this up all the way to hell and back, and he didn’t even realize it. Every pause, every blink, every swallow as he thinks, every time he tries to calculate what happens next. 

“You know I expect you to tell me when something is too much, though,” Yuuri says quietly, his thumb stroking Victor’s cheek. “It’s a delicate balance, and I will always respect you telling me when you need to be sure of what’s happening. But I can sense you holding back from me. I thought I could just ignore it, because you almost always continue, you know? And I just…I love you so much, and I want you to be happy. I thought you must be okay, or maybe need a little bit more time to process. But I don’t know, I just feel like you don’t trust me to truly take care of you, and I really need that, Victor. I wish I understood why, but I do.”

Yuuri’s last statement hits Victor with quite a few things he’d not fully appreciated until just this moment. Yuuri’s inability to stay with beautiful, maddening, high-maintenance Chris. His love of perfect, obedient angels.  Yuuri’s need to choreograph and design and create scenes and be the absolute master of his own life, right down to directing Victor Nikiforov to bend over and take ten hits on the ass for failing to comply within the agreement they’d made.

Within the scene Yuuri worked to create and had immersed himself in, all to slake Victor’s own curiosity. 

Victor feels all these things roll through him like an earthquake, realization working through his mind like the opening of gates one by one, each leading to a single conclusion: that Victor has taken Yuuri for granted, has taken his experience and his leadership and his love and his passion, and hasn’t given him the single thing he’s always wanted in return.

Victor’s full, true, and unquestioning trust.

“Oh, my Yuuri,” Victor says, and buries his face against Yuuri’s leg, his heart hammering and throat tight. “I never wanted you to feel this way. Never.” Victor can feel Yuuri’s hesitant fingers in his hair, so he squirms his way between Yuuri’s thighs and kneels before him. They’re almost the same height this way, Yuuri sitting on the lounge, and Victor cups Yuuri’s face in both hands and leans forward to touch their foreheads together. Yuuri’s eyes are so sad, this close, so fathomless and full of love and so, so sad, and Victor wants to cry at his own heedlessness.

“I will never love and trust another person the way I love and trust you, Yuuri. I can’t.” Yuuri nods, Victor feeling it more than seeing it. “I need you. I need the way you love me. I need you dancing with me in the morning. I need you feeding me strawberries at night. I need your eyes on me in the playroom, looking like you could consume me. It scares me, sometimes.” Victor swallows, tries again. “No, I  _ was _ scared. I didn’t realize that I was making you feel this way. I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri takes a hiccupping breath. “I never want you to think I’ll hurt you in a…in a bad way,” Yuuri says brokenly. “I’d die first. But I need you, too.  I want all of you. I need all of you. Please, Victor. I’d do anything for you.”

Victor can feel Yuuri’s breath on his face, warmth ghosting across his skin as he slides his hands down to cup the back of Yuuri’s neck and pull him in for a kiss, a touch of lips so soft and achingly sweet Victor can feel it flutter in his chest. Yuuri’s arms are tight around his shoulders and Victor leans into their strength as their kiss turns deeper, heady, Yuuri huffing little gasps against his mouth. Victor can feel arousal sparking along his nerves, down to his toes, and speaks his surrender against Yuuri’s lips.

“You have all of me. Everything. Let me prove it to you.”

Yuuri pulls back and smooths his fingers over Victor’s cheek, eyes bright and full of love. “Oh, my beauty. Thank you.” Yuuri traces his fingers over the gold of Victor’s collar and smiles. “And while I’d love nothing more than to lock you to the cross right now,” Yuuri says, and Victor shivers. “I think we’d better take a break, first. Calm down.”

Victor sighs, but nods. Yuuri is right. This is too much right now, too much to process properly and be in the right frame of mind for the playroom. He wants to prove himself, and that could lead to some stupid decisions. “What should we do, then? It’s barely noon.”

Yuuri smiles. “I still have you until ten tonight, right?”  Victor nods quickly. He’s not letting go of this now if it kills him. “Then let’s get some lunch and watch a movie. You’ve still not seen Inception, and I really don’t understand how.”

Victor rises and holds a hand out to Yuuri. “You are never going to let that go.”

Yuuri lets Victor pull him up and collides with him, and presses an obnoxious smacking kiss against Victor’s cheek. “Nope. I had to show you Captain America, for the love of God.”

“I was busy,” Victor complains, and rubs his cheek. 

“Sure thing, Nikiforov. So was I, that year, so no more excuses.” Yuuri reaches around and gropes his chest as they make their way out of the playroom. Victor laughs and sashays all the way up the stairs, Yuuri getting a fantastic show from his place behind him. 

Victor leans into Yuuri’s wandering hands as they gather things for lunch, and realizes with a grin that he’s unlocked that last tiny piece of his soul and handed it to Yuuri Katsuki on a silver platter, and he feels nothing but free. 

……………………………………………………………………………

“Will you stop asking me what happens next?” Yuuri murmurs, hand warm on Victor’s thigh. Victor is squirming, impatient, as Yuuri keeps tracing patterns over his skin, down to his knee and back up again, right to the hem of his skirt. 

But no farther.

“I’m just a little confused, though,” Victor says, and shifts closer on the couch, pressing himself right into Yuuri’s side. “I thought that —“

“Shhhhh,” Yuuri says, and places a finger over Victor’s lips. 

Victor nips him, Yuuri pinches his cheek in response, and Victor finally gives up. Yuuri is driving him  _ crazy _ , teasing little touches and no relief in sight, and Victor knows better than to ask. But another hour of Yuuri’s fingers trailing up the inside of his knee might send him off the deep end. 

“Victor,” Yuuri says a few minutes later, eyes still on the screen. “Come sit on my lap.”

Victor groans internally. He’s making this hard on purpose, the jerk. But, well… “Yes sir,” he says sweetly, and climbs over to settle his ass directly on Yuuri’s crotch and wiggles around until he’s comfortable, the rough fabric of Yuuri’s jeans almost too much on his still-sensitive skin. “Like this?” he says, and turns around to blink innocently.

Yuuri smirks. “Yes, like that, but lift up a second, okay?” Victor does, and Yuuri unzips his jeans and frees his cock. “Now tuck that right between your thighs, that’s my good boy.”

Victor whimpers as he settles. Yuuri’s cock is already nice and hard, and tucked right up between his legs and pressed against his balls, and he is, he’s going to lose it, right here on the sofa. He shifts a little and tightens his thighs, and Yuuri stills him with his hands on Victor’s hips.  

“Be good, baby,” he says, breath hot against Victor’s shoulder. “It’ll get better, I promise. But you have to be good.”

“Okay,” Victor says without missing a beat.  Victor tries to ignore the pulse of heat between his legs, simply leans back and lets Yuuri wrap his arms around his waist as they watch, Yuuri pressing kisses to the back of his neck on occasion. But he can feel the pulse of Yuuri’s heartbeat in his dick, feel the way the tip weeps fluid against his leg, and he  _ wants. _

He does, finally, forget his position a while later and is intent on figuring out what, exactly, is going on when he feels Yuuri’s fingers tuck under his ass, seeking. He tries not to jolt, or move, or even really take notice, but his skin is hyper aware of Yuuri’s nimble fingers slipping between his cheeks to rub over his hole. When one just barely breaches him, he can’t help it, he gasps.

“Keep watching,” Yuuri admonishes, and nips Victor’s ear. He wiggles his hand until Victor pushes himself up ever so slightly and lets Yuuri tuck his fingertip inside, massaging Victor’s rim.

“I…oh god. Sir.  _ Please _ ,” Victor pants, and Yuuri works himself in to the first knuckle. 

“I told you earlier you were going to want to be soft, didn’t I?” Yuuri purrs. “Let’s work on that.”

_ What is he…no _ . Victor ruthlessly tamps down on his questioning mind and just lets himself  _ feel, _ Yuuri’s fingers now wet with lube and twisting under him, two of them working their way inside of his body. Victor takes a deep breath and relaxes. 

“Yes, Victor. Let me open you up. God, you feel amazing. So soft. So sweet.”  

Victor gasps when Yuuri delicately nips at his neck, sharp little bites that Victor knows will leave marks over his collar. And when Yuuri urges him up and forward enough to set the head of his cock at Victor’s entrance, Victor is almost dizzy with arousal. 

“Open yourself up on me,” Yuuri rasps. “I want you on my lap, on my cock, Victor. Come on.” 

Victor nods desperately and begins to settle down. It’s been a few hours since Yuuri worked him open with the blazing heat of his mouth, but he’s not going to worry. Yuuri thinks he can do it, so he’s going to do it. The head breaches him and he hisses and stops, waits to adjust.

“Easy, my beauty,” Yuuri murmurs, a soft hand on his hip. “I’ve got all the time in the world, and you’re listening so beautifully, I’m so proud. You’re making me so happy, Victor.”

Victor breathes out and lets the weight of his body pull him down further, the burn pushing the breath from his lungs, his legs trembling, his hands braced on Yuuri’s thighs.  Yuuri whispers soft endearments as he goes, encouraging and praising him as he finally settles himself in the cradle of Yuuri’s lap. 

Yuuri groans quietly as Victor finally lets his weight rest on Yuuri’s lap, but other than a quick shudder that Victor can feel through his entire body, Yuuri does absolutely nothing else.

And Victor is about to go mad with Yuuri’s cock burning him like a brand from the inside out. He’s stretched sinfully and so full and he just wants to  _ move _ . “Sir?” he whispers.

“You’re doing perfectly. Just watch the movie.”

Victor sucks in a breath and nods. Yuuri’s hands creep up his thighs until they’re right next to his groin, the heat of them intensely arousing but not touching, and he continues to watch without another word. Every so often Victor can feel Yuuri’s fingers flex and dig into his legs, and while he tries to keep one part of his brain on the movie, he’s got the other busily figuring out what Yuuri is up to. For the love of god it’s been over twenty minutes now and Yuuri shows no sign whatsoever of fucking him, just letting him sit here with Yuuri’s cock up his ass and—

Yuuri takes a deep, hitching breath behind him and Victor glances back over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri’s smile is tight, his face is flushed, and he chuckles. “That was close, but yes. You’re too delectable, my beauty. You feel too good around me.”

Victor can feel his forehead wrinkle and then it all slots into place. “Have you been  _ edging yourself _ this whole time?”

“Mm,” Yuuri says, and rests his cheek against Victor’s back. “Yes. Self control for me is just as important as it is for you, you know.”

Victor can feel his jaw clench. He’s about to lose his mind, and Yuuri knows it. He’s had to sublimate his own body’s need for release so he could do what Yuuri asked, and he can feel a wicked little thought picking at his brain, whispering into his ear. 

He clenches, just a little, and rolls his hips.

Yuuri gasps and wraps his arms around Victor’s waist to hold him. “You little brat,” he breathes. “I told you to stay still.”

Victor turns and looks over his shoulder at Yuuri, his face flushed and pupils dilated. “Make me,” Victor purrs. Yuuri blinks at his boldness, then a sly smile breaks across his face and Victor feels butterflies erupt in his stomach.  

……………………………………………………………………..

Victor contemplates the wall in the playroom, the soft, soothing warmth of the orange paint, the stretch in his shoulders from being locked into place on the black St Andrew’s cross, and Yuuri Katsuki four fingers deep in his ass and maddingly, slowly, rubbing Victor’s rim with his thumb.

He’s never been fisted before, never taken more than three fingers, or a cock, or a toy. The stretch is intense, and he’s focused on a tiny nick in the paint on the wall across from him to keep himself from weeping out of sheer frustration. Yuuri is being especially vicious, Victor thinks, when he steps closer and reaches around to pull at the nipple clamp of the gold body chain he’s draped all over Victor’s otherwise naked skin.

“You take this so well,” Yuuri purrs, then licks up the side of Victor’s neck. “You’re almost there.”

Victor is panting now, sweating, hair sticking to his forehead. He’s not sure he can do this, he really isn’t, but he trusts his master, his Yuuri, and Yuuri said he can so he’s going to do it.  Yuuri pushes his fingers in again, nudges just a tiny bit with his thumb, and Victor howls at the aching burn. He’s not injured, he knows this. Nothing is torn, nothing is damaged. Yuuri has been working him open the last hour at least. There’s plenty of lube. He will adjust. He will.

“Deep breaths, shhhh, Victor. You’re starting to breathe too fast, sweetheart. Focus, and breathe with me okay? In, two, three, hold, two, three…” Yuuri places a calming hand between Victor’s shoulderblades, rubs him soothingly while at the same time twists his fingers inside Victor’s body all the way past the knuckles and beyond, it feels like.  “It’s a little after six. You still have four hours of being completely at my mercy to go. Are you going to make it?”

Victor groans. He is going to make it. He wants this, wants Yuuri to own him, have him. Play his body like a finely tuned violin. Give him everything he didn’t know he needed and more.

Yuuri withdraws a little and pushes back in, his knuckle rubbing Victor’s prostate, and Victor sees stars, the pressure in his groin almost too much to bear. 

“Please, sir, please, I need to come, I need to come, please, please,” Victor chants, he can’t not, he’s begging his master now, and he knows he shouldn’t but he isn’t going to make it much longer.

Yuuri withdraws his hand and Victor’s eyes fill with tears at the relief. But it only lasts a second when he hears Yuuri take a practice swing with his studded leather flogger, and before Victor can prepare himself it lands with a heavy crack right across his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” drops from his lips, almost too far gone to scream, exhausted and worked over beyond his limits, ass aching and empty, shoulder on fire, his mind a blank open space filled with nothing but sensation. Yuuri drops the flogger again on the other shoulder, and the heavy impact is sprinkled with an unexpected spark of stinging pain from the little metal studs on the ends of the fall. 

“Dammit,” Yuuri mutters. Victor just focuses on breathing, the sting lingering, and Victor realizes the flogger must have broken the skin. 

Yuuri leans his forehead against the small of Victor’s back and presses his lips reverently right to the base of Victor’s spine.

“I fucked up, my beauty. Are you okay?”

Victor shifts his shoulder. Yes, it’s stinging, but it’s not that bad. He’s felt much worse. He glances over his shoulder and catches Yuuri’s eye. “I’m fine. I know you’ll take care of me, sir. I trust you will.”

Yuuri surges up and kisses Victor hard. “God, I love you,” he murmurs against Victor’s mouth. “Ready?”  Victor nods, and Yuuri frees his cock and presses inside Victor with one fluid motion, hands locked on Victor’s hips. “Oh God, Victor, I’ve been dreaming about this all day. Watching you. Thinking about having you. Fucking you like this. Making you ache with need for me.”

“Sir,” Victor sighs, as Yuuri sets a fast, rough pace. “God, I love you. I need you. You’re so perfect for me. To me.”

Yuuri gasps. “Thank you, my beauty. Thank you. I…Victor, Victor, I love you.”

Victor whimpers under the onslaught, Yuuri pounding into him so hard the frame of the cross is rattling, the chains of the leather cuffs clinking against the crossbar.  Victor is on fire with the need to come; the entire day, all the emotions they’d shared, touches traded, teasing and loving and finally following Yuuri’s directions without hesitation, leading him to a pitch of awareness, a need so sharp and honed he can barely think straight. “Please, please, Sir, please…”

“Yes, Vitya, my beauty, my only love, come, oh god…”

Victor finally relaxes against all the restraint he’d been feeling most of the day, lets his entire body go slack from his head to his toes. The orgasm he’d been denied since early this morning floods his body, sensation expanding out like an exploding star, bright and overwhelming. He’s shaking and he can’t  _ stop _ shaking, not when Yuuri gasps and comes with him, not when Yuuri unlocks the cuffs and lets him sink the floor, spent. 

“Oh, my beauty,” Yuuri whispers, and Victor feels him swipe a gentle finger across Victor’s shoulder. When he turns to look Yuuri is sucking something off of his thumb, and when pulls it from his mouth, his lip is graced with a smear of red.

Victor stills.

Yuuri blinks, and his eyes flare with heat.

Oh,  _ fuck. _

  
  


…To be continued

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ Yuuri's studded flogger](http://pinkheffs.com/product/handmade-black-heavy-duty-leather-flogger-with-25-studded-tails/)  
>  [Victor's body chain looks a lot like this, but with nipple clamps attached.](https://goo.gl/images/PvHMSM)


End file.
